


you should see the things we do

by threeturn



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M, Pod Tours Europe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn
Summary: Lovett was basically like a disease that started in one part of the body and then spread to other parts until you died from having a full-time boner.





	you should see the things we do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ebethjanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebethjanna/gifts).



> This is for [ebethjanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebethjanna), who wanted happy tommyjon with some pining beforehand. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write this! I'm sorry it took forever but I hope you like it ♥ Huge thanks also to my angels [disarm_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d) and [ymorton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton) for doing A LOT to make this story better, and to [makesomelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesomelove), whose inspirational classic [Let My Love Adorn You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/763973) was a formative influence here.
> 
> This is a canon-based story set in January 2018, but I very unfairly erased a couple of real-life partners, because it was easier that way. Title is from Taylor Swift's "…Ready For It?"

1.

For the first ten years of their friendship, Tommy Vietor wasn't in love with Jon Lovett. Sure, those were years of warm affection, intellectual respect, and a certain unexamined ache. But it was definitely possible for Tommy to spend time with Lovett without being a sex-crazed weirdo about it. Just one week before that changed forever, everything they did together was still innocent and normal. For example, Lovett perching cross-legged on Tommy's big chair to watch him pack his suitcase for their European adventure. "Your socks are a cry for help," Lovett said.

"They're fun," said Tommy, noticing that Lovett was wearing blue socks that probably came in a discount pack from Amazon. "From what I hear about navy blue, yours are homophobic."

Lovett stuck out a leg and wiggled his foot. "Anything I wear instantly becomes pride regalia. Whereas your pastel stripes scream Straight CPA Gets Wild on the Weekend."

"What exactly am I allowed to wear?" Tommy asked. He rolled his favorite red plaid shirt into a tidy cylinder and tucked it into a corner of his suitcase that Lucca wasn't sitting in.

Lovett narrowed his eyes at Tommy. "I think one of those white lawyer wigs they wear in England would be best."

Tommy lifted Lucca out of his suitcase to finish packing and then decided to fall backward on the rug with her instead. "Sadly, my perukes are at the cleaners."

He'd ended up with his head on the floor by the chair. Lucca was licking his ear. Lovett peered down at him. "Well, in that case, I don't know how you're planning on picking up any girls after the live shows."

"That happened one time!" Tommy protested to Lovett's chin.

"In your defense," said Lovett, "you're tragically single and those national security groupies are insatiable."

"She wasn't a groupie," said Tommy, who was not at all tragic and was simply taking time to work on himself. "She had a doctorate in Public Affairs."

"I'll bet she did." Lovett wiggled his eyebrows.

"Plus, you hooked up with that—that lumberjack in Wisconsin. Not to mention the guy in Portland with the organic co-op."

"These are regional slurs," said Lovett. "Just because he had a beard—"

"Did he make you a salad, in total disregard of your actual preferences?" Tommy asked. "Were there chia seeds in it?"

"Stop trying to draw attention away from your promiscuity and pack your suitcase," said Lovett.

Tommy sat up and chose another long-sleeved button-down to wedge in.

"Take that black one over there," said Lovett, pointing.

Tommy had already put in enough t-shirts. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Lovett. "I like that one."

 

2.

Tommy did not in fact engage in sexual activity with anyone in Stockholm, Oslo, Amsterdam, or London, because he was busy discussing American politics with their highly engaged overseas audience. Nor did he keep track of what Lovett was doing, because Lovett was a grown man, and it wasn't Tommy's business anyway.

On the morning of their flight back, Tommy made his way down to the hotel lobby first and settled into one of the sofas in the corner to see if Emily had updated him on Lucca's emotional wellbeing from LA. Jon showed up next, looking well-rested.

"Where's Lovett?" Jon asked.

"Probably still packing," said Tommy.

Jon looked at his watch.

"I did tell him the plane was leaving a half hour earlier than it's actually leaving," Tommy said. "So he should be down soon."

His phone pinged. _I lost my passport I'm staying in England forever_

 _Your passport is in my back pocket_ , Tommy texted back to Lovett.

 _I can't believe you stole my passport_ , Lovett sent.

"He gave it to me for safekeeping," Tommy explained to Jon, who was already scrolling through Twitter.

"Did you see this?" Jon held up his phone for Tommy to see the picture Emily had tweeted. Lucca was sitting alertly on top of both Pundit and Leo, who seemed to be trying to nap.

"Oh my god," said Tommy. He was retweeting it when Lovett finally showed up.

"So late," Jon observed. "We'll probably miss our plane."

"Don't be silly," said Lovett. "Tommy was lying to us."

"Maybe to you," said Jon.

Lovett set down his overnight bag with a groan of pain, like he'd been carrying it for weeks through a swamp with double gravity. "You know how some people get so used to lying they don't even know what the truth is anymore? That's literal criminal Tommy Vietor."

"Here's your passport, Lovett," said Tommy.

"Ow!" said Lovett, reaching for it.

"What now?" asked Jon.

"He just wants me to carry his bag for him again," said Tommy.

"Shut up, I'm suffering," said Lovett, wincing dramatically. "My neck hurts."

"And why is that?" Jon asked patiently.

"Because I'm very old and fragile," said Lovett. "Speaking of which, I've taken a vow of chastity and won't be hooking up with anyone ever again." He rotated his neck gingerly in a tiny circle, with the air of one taking a great personal risk.

"Oh boy," said Jon. "Does your injury by any chance involve that guy at the pub last night?"

"Fucking Nigel," said Lovett. "Now stop harassing me for details, it's unseemly. Who has Motrin?"

"Hold on," said Jon, and started opening the zip pockets of his suitcase. "I have a…Band-Aid. Do you want a Band-Aid?"

"I want a neck transplant," said Lovett. He started massaging his own neck.

"You slept with a guy named Nigel?" Tommy asked. He couldn’t take his eyes off Lovett's hands.

"We're in London, Tommy, that's considered normal here."

Jon frowned. "You're okay, right?"

"Definitely not," said Lovett. "Can we get a cab to the airport now?"

"Sure," said Tommy, picking up his suitcase and also Lovett's overnight bag.

 

3.

On the plane, Lovett had the window seat and Tommy was next to him. Jon had the aisle seat, so that he could be as far as possible from any visual evidence that they were up in the sky. Tommy talked to Jon quietly about aviation safety statistics until his pills kicked in.

"It's okay," Tommy whispered. He and Jon didn’t actually hold hands on planes, but Jon seemed to feel better when their shoulders were sort of pressed together. "Trump has been very strict on aviation safety, especially for direct flights from Heathrow to LAX."

"You're a dick," said Jon contentedly, and in a few minutes fell asleep.

"He okay?" said Lovett. He had arranged himself against a neck pillow after prevailing on a flight attendant for ibuprofen.

"Fine," said Tommy. "How's your neck?"

"I'm soldiering through," said Lovett. "No guts, no glory."

Tommy slid down in his seat so that his head was a little closer to Lovett's. "Look, was this guy some kinda jerk? Was he like…rough with you?"

"Oh my god, Tommy," said Lovett. "What are you gonna do if I say yes, fly back to London and give Nigel a stern talking-to?"

"No!" said Tommy. "I mean, unless you want me to."

Lovett rolled his eyes. "Nigel was a gentle soul and any minor injuries sustained were due to consensual passion, which is something you would be able to understand if you spent less time transforming yourself into an impregnable fortress of pure muscle. Can I listen to my audiobook now?"

"Sure, fine," said Tommy. He leaned back in his seat and thought about Lovett sustaining minor injuries due to consensual passion. Which sexual positions could potentially result in neck strain? A series of inappropriate images presented themselves to Tommy in which Lovett, entrusting his small, vulnerable body to awful Nigel, allowed himself to be acrobatically manipulated. But maybe Tommy was being unfair. You could have the best intentions in the world and still end up harming yourself or others.

Tommy said, "Lovett. Lovett, hey," and kicked his foot. Since Lovett ignored him, he was forced to lift Lovett's headphone off one ear.

Lovett pressed pause. "I can't believe people think I'm the annoying one."

Very softly, Tommy whispered, "This one time I pulled something in my back holding someone up against a wall."

Lovett flinched and then stared very intently at the seatback in front of him. "I didn't need to know that, Tommy."

"I'm just saying, I'm not actually impregnable."

"You know what I miss about the Obama years? When you would stop speaking for days on end in case you accidentally disclosed a nuclear secret."

"Wow, okay," said Tommy, sitting up straighter. "Excuse me for trying to find common ground."

Lovett closed his eyes for a moment and then turned to Tommy. "Unfortunately there's an unbridgeable gulf between a, a wall-sex gorilla like you and a nice boy like me who enjoys a bit of vigorous fellatio."

"Oh," said Tommy. "I mean— _oh_."

"Clear eyes, full throat, can't lose!" Lovett said. "Sports!"

"You don't have to—like—I wasn't asking for details—" Tommy could feel his cheeks going red.

"He was holding my head with passionate abandon, you see," said Lovett, who was sounding increasingly cheerful.

Tommy put the dislodged headphone back over Lovett's ear, because he couldn’t very well shove it in his mouth.

"Pulled me too far to the left," Lovett chirped. "Or was it the right?"

"Jesus, Lovett," mumbled Tommy. He pulled out his earbuds and started untangling them.

Lovett patted Tommy on the shoulder. "I'm so glad you insisted on having this confidential chat."

"I'm glad it's _over_ ," said Tommy.

But it wasn't.

 

4. 

The problem was that once Lovett mentioned getting manhandled during a blowjob Tommy could not stop thinking about Lovett getting manhandled during a blowjob, which was a monstrous thing to think about your best friend. For example, over the Atlantic Ocean alone, he considered:

a) Lovett on his knees, waiting  
b) Lovett, eyes closed, opening his mouth  
c) Lovett, whimpering with anticipation, then the noise being suddenly cut off  
d) Lovett's head cradled in two large hands, thumbs high on his cheeks

At some point he realized the tender, masterful hands did not belong to clumsy Nigel. They belonged, extremely unfortunately, to Tommy himself. It was weird because usually Tommy only had gay thoughts about men in uniform and Barack Obama. Tommy darted a look over at Lovett, who was probably the most civilian person he had ever met. He had fallen asleep.

Tommy reached over to wipe the drool from the corner of Lovett's mouth. Then he realized that his thumb was five inches from Lovett's bottom lip, became paralyzed by desire, dropped his hand, and yanked Peter Pomerantsev's account of the surreal heart of the new Russia out of his bag instead.

Staring unseeing at his book, Tommy decided the lurid images parading across his mind were probably a travel-induced phenomenon that would dissipate upon exposure to LA sunshine. Once he'd been with President Obama on Air Force One and had started imagining Obama taking him to the back of the plane to pin a medal to his chest for some unspecified act of heroism. Obama would let his fingers linger on Tommy's chest a moment too long and then Tommy would put his hand over Obama's hand and there would be a moment of pure electricity between them. Another time, on a trip to Brussels, he'd started daydreaming about being kidnapped by the Albanian mob. He'd be held prisoner until Dr. Karen Donfried personally led a rescue squad to find him, knocking out his guard with one punch to the head. Once freed of his bonds, Tommy would help her take down the rest of the compound and she'd put a hand on his shoulder and say, "Good job, Tommy."

Thinking about taking Lovett's head in his hands and thumbing his mouth open for his dick was basically the same thing, only more embarrassing. It would be easy to stop once Lovett wasn't right there next to him, not only on the plane, but also in the baggage terminal and late at night in the car to West Hollywood, leaning against him every time they hit a curve. In fact, by the time they'd arrived at Jon and Emily's house and Tommy was reunited with Lucca, his sudden onset sex mania really did feel more distant. His exhausted goodnight to Lovett, who was still on the floor with Pundit and Leo, was almost entirely devoid of shame.

When he was finally back in his own home, in his own bed, an elated and well-fed Lucca curled up next to him, he fell asleep quickly and slept the sleep of the just until, in his dream, Lovett dropped to his knees in front of him with his hands on Tommy's thighs and Tommy woke up hard. "Goddamn it," he said out loud.

The whole thing was incredibly irritating and now he was going to have to jerk off about it. He got up to go to the bathroom so as not to commit masturbation in the presence of his dog. It felt like both a defeat and a betrayal to jerk off to Lovett, so as he braced himself against the sink he tried some other people instead. But Sofia Boutella didn't work and neither did Vanessa Kirby. In a final act of desperation, he tried Jared Kushner, and then gave up completely. Lovett's head was in his hands. "Go ahead," Lovett was saying. "I don't mind."

 

5.

On their first day back at work, Lovett swanned in a few minutes after eleven. Pundit, in high spirits, zoomed straight over to Lucca to see if she wanted to be knocked over.

"Hey, Lovett," said Tommy, sounding more strangled than he meant to. He was wearing the shirt Lovett had said he liked.

"Hey, Tommy," said Lovett, dropping his bag in the middle of the floor to take off his jacket. He was wearing a close-fitting gray shirt with which Tommy was fairly familiar and which had never before made him want to touch Lovett all over and then, very carefully, put a hand on his shoulder and guide him downward.

"Lovett, c'mere and look at my outline for the show," said Jon, not looking up.

Lovett left his bag on the floor where anyone could trip over it and went over to Jon, who was pointing at his laptop.

"We start with the budget deal and then move on to DOJ stuff, or is that too boring? Maybe we should lead with the tweets instead."

"Hmmm," said Lovett, bending over Jon's shoulder to see his laptop screen. Then, while Tommy watched in horrified disbelief, he got down on one knee by Jon's chair instead.

"I have to email Ben Rhodes," Tommy said loudly, to show that he wasn't staring at Lovett's ass or the backs of his thighs.

 _Hey dude_ , he typed, so as not to be a liar. Then he peeked over at Jon's desk. Jon was throwing back his head to laugh at something Lovett was saying. What assholes. _How does Tillerson still have a job,_ Tommy typed.

"Ow!" said Lovett.

 _bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb_ , typed Tommy, by mistake. He looked up. Lovett had gotten to his feet and was rubbing at his knee.

"Wounded again?" Jon asked.

"More or less," said Lovett. He took a tennis ball from the basket by the coffee machine and threw it for Leo, then came over and perched on the edge of Tommy's desk. "Just a little leftover carpet burn," he informed Tommy.

"Oh my god, shut up," said Tommy.

"From playing with Pundit, you insufferable pervert," said Lovett, and hopped off to take the ball from Leo. "Who's gonna do the livestream today?" he called to Jon.

"I guess probably the people who aren't whining about their minor injuries," said Jon.

"Typical power grab," said Lovett, and then, as Leo galloped toward them, "Tommy, get the ball, willya? I think it went under your desk."

Tommy rolled his eyes and ducked under the desk. When he grabbed the ball and looked up from his position on all fours, Lovett was standing right there, boxing him in. It was basically impossible not to make eye contact with Lovett's crotch.

"Tommy," said Lovett, standing there in his maroon pants. "The ball?"

"Oh, right." Tommy handed it to Lovett. Their fingers brushed. Tommy made a small involuntary noise.

Lovett gazed curiously down at Tommy. "Okay there, big guy?"

Tommy rose to his feet with the swift competence of a Barry's Bootcamp regular. "I am just _trying_ ," he said with dignity, "to get some _work_ done."

 

6.

Lovett was basically like a disease that started in one part of the body and then spread to other parts until you died from the ill effects of a full-time boner. Like it wasn't enough Tommy had to deal with the constant urge to stick his dick in Lovett's mouth. Now he had to want it the other way around too. For example:

a) Lovett unzipping his maroon pants  
b) Lovett ordering Tommy to take out his cock already  
c) Lovett cupping the back of Tommy's head and pushing in  
d) Lovett treating Tommy roughly and carelessly because he thinks Tommy is an impregnable muscle fortress

The thing was, when you had a regular disease there was usually a specific remedy, some kind of medical action plan. When you had sex fantasy tuberculosis, all you could do was jerk off in the company bathroom. By the time he emerged, Jon and the object of his degenerate fixation were already in the studio singing the praises of their new presenting sponsor, who'd been sending over the same copy basically since the War of 1812. Tommy slid quickly and shamefully into his seat.

"Zip Recruiter's helped hundreds of thousands of businesses across all industries find the right people," Jon announced cheerfully.

"Zip Recruiter should branch out," said Lovett. "Maybe a dating service? Boyfriend Recruiter! Or Girlfriend Recruiter, for you, Tommy."

"That won't be necessary," said Tommy.

"Oh, right," said Lovett. "No assistance required for a man of your talents."

"Zip Recruiter matches you to the most desirable candidates!" Jon continued.

"As a single man, _I_ would like to be matched to the most desirable candidate," said Lovett, gazing at Tommy.

Tommy remembered the guy who didn't want Lovett to meet his parents and the guy who didn't laugh at Lovett's jokes and the guy who cheated on Lovett and the guy who was literally a Republican. He said, "How about someone who treats you well for a change?"

Jon cleared his throat. "Only Zip Recruiter learns which candidates you like and finds you more like that, so you never miss out on a great match."

"Are you looking for a lonely former NSC spokesman who has trouble seeing what's right there in front of him?" Lovett asked, kicking Tommy under the table.

"Or maybe a caveman with a British accent!" Tommy suggested, kicking him back.

Jon put down the copy. "Okay, let's start over."

"Sorry, Jon," said Tommy.

"Maybe if we could just be a little less personal," said Jon.

"Well, personal is our brand," said Lovett. "Personal is the entire point!"

"Just don't bring up Tommy's _situation_ ," said Jon, who tended to refer to Tommy's year of single life with the hushed tones of someone discussing a death in the family.

"Oh, I forgot that only gay men should sound needy and desperate. Maybe you should tell Tommy not to accuse me of poor judgment." Lovett adjusted his baseball cap with tense, angry fingers.

Tommy wanted to kiss him, which meant the disease had spread to a brand new part of his body. "I'm sorry, Lovett," Tommy said.

 

7.

The following morning, after jerking off in the shower, Tommy decided on a new approach to his problem. Clearly the way to stop having pornographic sex thoughts about Lovett was to have completely different thoughts that were not pornographic. He was proud of himself for not being a pervert for five minutes, before he realized that his thoughts now included:

a) Changing Lovett's light bulbs for him when he can't reach the fixtures  
b) Writing a (trenchant, hilarious) song for Lovett on his guitar  
c) Making an impassioned speech about Lovett's incisive brilliance and ethical commitment when someone tries to reduce him to "comic relief"  
d) Wandering into Lovett's living room on game night and having Lovett tell his nerd friends, "Oh, don't mind him, that's just my boyfriend Tommy."

Which wasn't helpful at all. To really heal himself he would have to cut off all contact with Lovett completely, except for seeing him five days a week and recording a podcast with him and following him on all social media and walking his dog when it was Tommy's turn on the office rota.

So when Lovett made his usual late arrival that day, Tommy didn't look up. When Lovett made fun of him on Twitter, he didn't like or retweet. When Lovett said, "So what's Kim Jong Un thinking, Tommy?" Tommy coldly recommended an article in the _Atlantic_. When Lovett said, "Why haven't we had a Tommy John ad lately? I miss Tommy John," Tommy kept his face blank and uncaring. When Lovett got down on the floor with Lucca and fondled her ears and cooed, "Hey girl, hey cute girl! Who's my second place angel, who's my second best girl?" Tommy manfully resisted flinging himself down on the floor next to Lucca in case Lovett wanted to fondle his ears too.

"What's wrong with Tommy, Lucca?" Lovett was saying. "Why doesn't he wanna talk to us? Why does he sit there brooding handsomely as if his ski vacation went sour when his yacht was reupholstered and someone spilled fine wine on his lacrosse sticks?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said Tommy, and fled to the studio to record a telephone interview for Pod Save the World. Larissa Vasquez was an accomplished foreign service officer who would have a lot to share with Tommy's listeners. It was a great conversation and Tommy forgot to think about Lovett for minutes at a time.

"At that time diplomatic relations between our countries were at an all-time low," Larissa was explaining. "Talks had ground to a halt."

"How do you keep the lines of communication open in that kind of situation?" asked Tommy, who had sort of forgotten which country they were talking about. "And do you even want to?"

"What a good question, Tommy," she said. "First, you say to yourself, are there any potential points of agreement here? Is this country's prosperity in our best interest?"

"Yes!" said Tommy, thinking of Crooked Media and how his life and career were inextricably linked with Lovett's life and career. "You just want to protect them, even if they don't understand."

"But on the other hand," said Larissa, "the United States doesn't extend its protective umbrella entirely without expectations."

"That's true," said Tommy. "And sometimes the other person seems completely incorrigible."

"But you stay open to dialogue," Larissa suggested. "You look for a wedge where you can open a door."

Tommy leaned into his mic. "What if the other person makes you feel inexperienced and perhaps even inadequate to the task at hand?"

"Early in my career," said Larissa thoughtfully, "I often had to set aside an unproductive anxiety in order to tackle an issue head on. If the other party appears to be trying to unsettle or intimidate you, determine if you've reached a genuine impasse or if this could even be a deliberate tactic on their part."

"But people can be so hard to read," Tommy said. "Even when you know someone really, really well!"

There was a pause before her answer came through. "Are we still talking about international relations, Tommy?"

"Totally," he said. "Also I can cut this later. What were you saying about a genuine impasse?"

"Well," she said. "Sometimes both parties are hesitant to communicate openly due to fear of loss. But when a significant breakthrough is possible, it's a shame to let risk aversion sabotage a potential understanding."

"Wow," said Tommy. "Can I call you back?"

 

8.

Tommy burst out of the studio only to find Jon alone in the office with Leo and Lucca.

"That was quick," Jon observed. "Larissa not have a lot to say?"

"She was great, we had to reschedule, where is Lovett?"

"He left early," said Jon. "He didn't feel well."

"Me too!" said Tommy. "I'm very ill and I need to talk to Lovett about it."

"You know, maybe this would be a good day to give Lovett some space."

"Why? Did he say that? Did he say he wanted space and did he say he needed it from me, specifically? Tell me his exact words."

"Oh boy," said Jon. "What is going on with you two?"

Tommy started packing up his bag. "He said something was going on with us? Really?"

"I haven't seen him this worked up since winegate," Jon said. "Is there some specific thing you're excluding him from?"

Tommy dropped his notebook and stared at Jon. "…Me."

"You're been excluding him from _you_?"

"I can't explain right now," said Tommy. "All you need to know is I fucked everything up again."

"I'm going to tell you something Emily taught me," said Jon. "When you're feeling upset, sometimes you need to just stop and feel your feelings."

"I've been feeling my feelings!" yelled Tommy. "That's the problem! Why the hell are you on your phone at a time like this?"

"I'm checking the Headspace app," said Jon. "In case there's a guided meditation for having a weirdly loaded relationship with your best friend."

"Oh," said Tommy. "Is there?"

"No," said Jon. "But there _is_ a text from Lovett saying that he's home now, and he'll be eating dinner alone, but that's fine because all his friends hate him and he'll probably die alone too so he might as well get used to it."

He and Tommy looked at each other.

"Yeah, he doesn't want space," said Tommy. He scooped up Lucca. "See ya, bro."

 

9.

"Diplomatic solutions," Tommy muttered to himself. He was standing on Lovett's doorstep clutching Lucca's lead. "Set aside unproductive anxiety, tackle issue head on. Can't let risk aversion sabotage potential understanding." Because finally he’d diagnosed his stupid dick-mouth-heart-related medical predicament: he was in love with Lovett, that’s all. He'd figured it out and now he just had to be brave.

Only when Lovett came to the door, all Tommy could think of to say was, "Emily says feel your feelings."

Lovett didn't move to let him in. "Which ones? Because when my friend gives me the silent treatment, I _feel_ confused and hurt."

"I know," said Tommy, and let Lucca go racing into the depths of the house to find Pundit, so that Lovett wouldn't be able to just send him away. "Look, can I talk to you?"

"I can't believe what I put up with from you people," said Lovett, and stepped back so Tommy could come into his house.

Tommy politely took off his shoes and arranged various sections of Sunday's _Times_ , a Nature Box carton, a bunch of unopened mail, a game controller, Lovett's laptop, and the new Cory Doctorow novel into a neat pile so that there was room for him to sit on the sofa. "I came over to tell you that you were right about me," he said.

"Are we talking about the yacht and the ski vacation?" asked Lovett, sitting down at the other end of the couch. Somehow it still seemed like Tommy could feel the heat of his body.

"No," said Tommy. "About me being an insufferable pervert."

"Oh, that," said Lovett, like it was nothing. Like it was nothing that Tommy wanted to kiss him right now, so badly that he could feel his own heart pounding.

"It's just that ever since you told me that _thing_ I can't stop thinking about it, or you, not that it's your fault because I don't mean to imply that, I just didn't know before, I didn't realize I wanted that with you—"

"—what thing?" said Lovett.

"—and I'm not telling you because I'm assuming you're interested, because why would you be, especially when I've done everything wrong, but I wanted to apologize for being mean to you because of it, and if just in case, if there's even the tiniest chance—"

"WHAT! THING!" said Lovett.

"Oh," said Tommy. "Like, how you hurt your neck."

"Jesus fucking Christ," said Lovett. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I don't know!" said Tommy.

"This is all because you wanna fuck my face?" Lovett said incredulously.

"Sort of?" Tommy wanted to die.

"My favorite sexual position," Lovett said. "Face-fucking, but only sort of."

"Or, you know," said Tommy in a small voice. "The other way around."

"Unbelievable," said Lovett. "I'm texting Jon right now."

"No!" yelped Tommy, and lunged for Lovett's phone. Lovett nabbed it first and held it against himself protectively. Tommy grabbed Lovett's hand that was holding the phone, noticed his knuckles were on fire from being pressed to Lovett's stomach, and realized all over again that he was a terrible person. He dropped Lovett's hand and moved back to the end of the sofa, in order to be as unthreatening as possible. "I mean obviously," he said, "you should do what you want."

"What if I want you to fuck my face?" Lovett asked sweetly.

" _Do_ you?" said Tommy incredulously. His head was spinning.

"Not at the moment," said Lovett. "This is really weird, Tommy. You've been bisexual for like five minutes and apparently your main goal is to get me in a neck brace."

"My god, no!" said Tommy. "That's Nigel's thing!"

Lovett looked at him.

"Anyway," said Tommy, "that, um, concept isn't the whole, uh. It was just the jumping off point, I did have some other thoughts—"

"Oh, good, there's more!" said Lovett. "Should I get my diary?"

"Lovett!" said Tommy wretchedly. "Please just hear me out."

"Okay," said Lovett, and went completely still.

Tommy tried to remember some of the more G-rated thoughts he had had about Lovett in the last twenty-four hours, but they were actually even more embarrassing than the pornographic ones. "I know I kind of sprung all this on you," he said. "And I know I have no idea what I'm doing. But like—if I promise not to be weird about, you know, the thing—what if we just went on a date?"

"A date," Lovett repeated.

"To get to know each other better?"

Lovett said, "But I know you, Tommy Vietor. Do you know me?"

"I don't know!" There was a lump in Tommy's throat. What he knew was the look on Lovett's face when Tommy told him he was moving to LA, and the brittle edge in Lovett's voice when Tommy made him genuinely mad. "I know I like you," said Tommy, also knowing that word was stupidly insufficient. But he went doggedly onward, because there was nothing else to do. "We could get dinner together."

"We already get dinner together."

"We could see a movie together?"

"We already see movies together!"

"Fine!" said Tommy, exasperated. "Then you could let me kiss you!"

"Oh," said Lovett thoughtfully. "Okay."

He scooted closer to Tommy on the sofa, looking skeptical. Tommy turned to him. He tilted his head so that Lovett, with his delicate neck, wouldn't have to. "C'mon," said Lovett kindly, when Tommy was still an inch from his lips. So Tommy closed his eyes and kissed him, and Lovett, after a moment, made a noise and kissed him back.

"Jon, oh god…" Tommy didn't know where to put his hands.

"I like you too, you big-armed basket case," Lovett whispered against his lips. Then he was kissing Tommy again, tasting him, loosening against him, and Tommy groaned, drunk with the wet heat of Lovett's mouth. He didn't mean to be a gorilla about it, but he pulled Lovett up and onto his lap anyway, even though Lovett would be able to feel his hard-on and know exactly how much and how desperately Tommy wanted him. Lovett didn't object, though. He only ground down into Tommy's lap, his ass to Tommy's dick. "Don't you dare hold me up against a wall," he said.

"Don't worry," said Tommy. "My back aches just thinking about it." He considered Lovett against a wall, legs wrapped around Tommy's hips, head thrown back, Tommy pushing up into his yielding body, and said breathlessly, "Anyway, we're just kissing. We're, uh, taking it slow."

Lovett rolled his eyes. "Right."

Tommy took Lovett's head in his hands, feeling the shorn sides of his undercut prickly and vulnerable under his fingers. "I'll never hurt you," he promised, and pulled Lovett in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr post is [here](https://valencing.tumblr.com/post/169486879747/you-should-see-the-things-we-do-tommyjon-podsa)!


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